


Warm hands, warm hearts

by Alecto



Series: Fictober 2019 [6]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Background Character Death, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fictober 2019, Friends With Benefits, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Kaijou Week 2019, M/M, Melancholy, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 06:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alecto/pseuds/Alecto
Summary: Winter gripped Domino City. Her chilly fingers penetrated Jounouchi’s poorly insulated apartment and clawed into his bones. To his surprise though, he found warmth from the most unexpected source: Kaiba.
Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto
Series: Fictober 2019 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529003
Comments: 16
Kudos: 145





	Warm hands, warm hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Fictober Day 8 prompt: “Can you stay?”  
> Fictober Day 26 prompt: “You keep me warm.” x KaijouWeek Day 7 prompt: "free day"

Jounouchi sat against the wall that doubled as his headboard and admired the picture that Kaiba presented: bed-tousled hair, crescent-shaped marks peppered along his spine, and the elegant curve of his shoulder blades as he shrugged on a pressed linen shirt. Given how they’d clawed the clothing off each other, Jounouchi had no idea how the shirt stayed unwrinkled. When Kaiba stood, threading one long leg into his underwear, he left an ass-shaped indentation in the second-hand mattress inherited from Honda.

Jounouchi’s furniture were all shabby hand-me-downs. The real miracle was Kaiba, with his fancy sports cars and manor-living, tolerating his apartment long enough to visit.

For a brief moment, he fantasized what it’d be like to fuck Kaiba in his home. Would Kaiba make more noise spread across his own sheets? Or even less? How big was his bed? What color were his bedroom walls? Did he have any embarrassing little secrets tucked into the back of his underwear drawer? The questions were moot points. Kaiba’d never invite him to the manor. 

They weren’t dating. They weren’t even friends. At best, they were “fuck buddies”—with emphasis on the fucking. They were almost eleven months into their arrangement with no end in sight. Jounouchi couldn’t fathom why Kaiba sought him out week after week. Conversation wasn’t their preferred activity in each other’s presence, so he might never know.

He was probably overthinking it. They were physically and sexually compatible. That probably made Jounouchi a convenient no-attachment partner. He couldn’t complain too much either way. It wasn’t a bad arrangement, so he wasn’t in any rush to end whatever “this” was.

“Hey,” he said.

Kaiba tensed, spine steeling at the sound of his voice. He zipped up his pants before responding, “What?” 

He was especially monosyllabic after sex.

Jounouchi rolled his eyes to cover up how Kaiba’s obvious suspicion pricked him. “I’m going out of town. So I won’t be around next week.”

Kaiba turned toward him. As his flinty eyes traced over Jounouchi’s face, Jounouchi suppressed a shiver. He hated this most about Kaiba: how he seemed to dissect Jounouchi with his cutting gaze. Now he regretted telling Kaiba in person, instead of over an off-hand mail like he originally planned.

“I’m visiting Shizuka,” added Jounouchi. It’d been a year since he last saw his sister.

A fraction of tension immediately bled out of Kaiba’s stiff shoulders. With a brisk nod, he returned to fiddling with his cufflinks. “Understood. Mail me after you return.”

Jounouchi stayed quiet while Kaiba finished dressing. He was in no hurry to leave bed. He and Kaiba never bothered with social niceties. Yet when Kaiba placed a hand on the doorknob, Jounouchi couldn’t help himself. He swung his legs over the side of the saggy mattress and sat up. “Should I bring you a souvenir?”

Kaiba craned his neck to meet Jounouchi’s eyes. They stared at each other. Jounouchi waited with bated breath for some insult or banter to fall from Kaiba’s thin lips.

“Have a safe trip, Jounouchi.” Kaiba left the bedroom door ajar in the wake of his swift exit.

Floored by the response, Jounouchi flopped back onto the bed. He gawked at his ceiling while Kaiba’s footsteps grew fainter. Seconds later, his front door went thunk, announcing Kaiba’s departure from the apartment. He told himself not to let it— _this_ go to his head. Falling for Kaiba Seto would be the worst mistake he could make. Worse than throwing his lot with Hirutani’s crew and dumber than taking Ra’s fiery fury straight to the face. 

-x-x-x-

Tragedy ultimately cut his visit with Shizuka short. 

Correction. Jounouchi didn’t know if he really considered his old man’s death a tragedy. Jounouchi Koji died as he lived: stinking drunk. His death, a fatal tumble down the stairs that snapped his neck, was quicker and less painful than he deserved.

Jounouchi headed back to Domino on the bullet train first. Shizuka promised to follow as soon as she convinced their mother and took time from school. She would break that promise. Not because she didn’t care. But because their mother held a grudge against the man she left. There would be no posthumous reconciliation, begrudging or otherwise. 

Kawai Michiru’s icy heart was second only to Kaiba’s.

Even though Jounouchi hadn’t spoken or seen his father in the three years since he moved out, it fell to him—the only son; the eldest child—to arrange the funeral. Between work and putting the old man’s messy affairs into order, he was beyond exhausted. He felt like he aged years in a week. 

Jounouchi didn’t bother throwing a wake. Between paying down the interest on his old man’s remaining debts and the funerary costs, he was already strapped for cash. There was no way he’d lower himself to taking money from his friends. During that hectic period, his friends lifted him onto their backs and carried him when his strength faltered. Anzu filled his fridge with containers of “leftovers.” Yuugi spent more nights on Jounouchi’s couch than in his own bed. Honda would “conveniently” stop by in time to shuttle Jounouchi to appointments at the funeral home. They had done more than enough. 

He never emailed Kaiba, and Kaiba didn’t reach out.

As his father’s chief mourner, he received condolences at the funeral with a stoic expression. His suit, something else borrowed from Honda, sat too tight around his shoulders but too loose at his hips. His friends in attendance outnumbered those who came to say goodbye to his father. Shizuka was barred from coming. Their mother definitely turned her back on the entire affair. 

But Kaiba came. Jounouchi might have been shocked if he could feel anything other than numbness. 

After they laid the flowers—irises which Anzu had hand-picked with an uncharacteristically vicious flourish [1]—around his dad’s body, the casket was sealed and whisked away. The funeral may be over, but Jounouchi’s duties continued at the crematorium tomorrow.

Honda slipped up to him. “C’mon, Jounouchi.”

He didn’t argue. But as he moved to follow Honda out, a hand on his shoulder held him in place. That hand belonged to Kaiba.

“I’ll take him.” Kaiba’s tone left no room for argument.

Jounouchi shrugged. Kaiba led him away, leaving a stunned Honda in their wake. Without noting which luxury sports car Kaiba drove that day, Jounouchi sank into the passenger’s seat. He gazed out the window, blind to the city streets that flew past them. Kaiba never spoke. Jounouchi preferred it that way.

Soon, Jounouchi found himself staring at the nameplate next to his apartment door. He blinked slowly and made no move to unlock the door. A deep sigh sounded to his left. Kaiba, he realized as long fingers slipped into his pockets and retrieved the keys. After unlocking the door, Kaiba followed him inside. While Jounouchi went straight to his worn couch, Kaiba paused in the tiny genkan to remove his shoes. 

“Have you eaten?” Kaiba asked as he approached.

Jounouchi stared. He didn’t understand _why_ Kaiba was still here.

With a huff, Kaiba padded into the kitchenette. The fridge door opened with a soft snick and threw a wide band of light across the wall before Jounouchi. He listened as Kaiba shifted containers, opened them, and sniffed their contents. The fridge shut with another snick. 

Before long, Kaiba thrust a container of beef stew in his face and a spoon in his hand. “Eat,” he ordered.

Even though Kaiba didn’t do him the courtesy of heating it first, Jounouchi ate. He ate without a word. He ate without looking at his unexpected companion. And the entire time he ate, Kaiba sat silently next to him. 

After Jounouchi finished, he was simultaneously too full and too empty. He clutched the spoon so tightly that the metal edge dug into his palm. “Why are you still here?”

Kaiba stayed quiet. Maybe he didn’t plan to justify himself. Maybe he’d just leave. Instead, he said, “I know how exhausting a father’s funeral can be. Even if you despise the man.”

He snapped his head to look at Kaiba. His mouth flapped several times like a landed fish. “I... I didn’t hate him,” he finally managed weakly.

“You didn’t love him either.”

Wetness gathered in the corner of his eyes. His vision wavered. His voice cracked. “He was hard to love.”

Jounouchi had tried—once upon a time. Even after their family of four became two. Maybe even after he moved out. Had he ever truly given up on that hope? But that didn’t matter anymore. Jounouchi Koji was gone. The tears that were nowhere to be found at the funeral assaulted him. No matter how he tried to smother them, they wouldn’t stop. While he cried, Kaiba remained a steady presence at his side. He didn’t hug Jounouchi or hold his hand, but the bony shoulder lightly pressed against Jounouchi’s was more than enough.

After Jounouchi's muffled sobs later subsided, Kaiba shrunk away and asked, "Is there anything else?"

He knew better than to ask. But Jounouchi Katsuya always jumped before looking. “Can you stay?”

Kaiba did.

-x-x-x-

His ceiling was as gray as the overcast sky outside his window. Jounouchi stared at its bland color and peeling paint for what felt like an eternity before dragging himself off his sagging and creaky mattress. He picked up the discarded dress shirt on the floor, sniffing it twice before tossing it into his hamper. The time on his phone read 10:21, which gave him fifteen minutes to drink coffee and get dressed before Honda came pounding at his door.

Jounouchi’s bones ached as he slipped on a clean pair of boxers and the same suit pants he wore to yesterday’s funeral. After pulling on an undershirt, he left the clean but wrinkled button-up open. With a wide yawn that threatened to crack open his jaw, he shuffled out of his bedroom. Then he froze, eyes wide as he stared at the impossible sight in his tiny living room. 

Kaiba laid prone across Jounouchi’s too-short sofa with his feet dangling over one end, his suit jacket packed under his head as a makeshift pillow, and one arm thrown over his face to block out the morning light. Kaiba had spent the night, which he never did even after they fucked. 

A lump formed in Jounouchi’s throat. He had asked Kaiba to stay. His moment of weakness gave way to the shame now swirling in his belly. He couldn’t deal with this. Not so soon after his old man’s funeral. Not with the day that still lay ahead.

In the kitchenette, he set the kettle to boil on his single electric burner. He pulled a mug from his cabinet while the water boiled. After a second of reconsideration, he retrieved a second mug and spooned instant coffee mix into both. Kaiba finally stirred to the waking world as the smell of coffee filled Jounouchi’s tiny LDK.

Jounouchi approached the couch and wordlessly offered one mug. Kaiba rearranged himself into a seated position before taking the coffee, blowing on it several times, and taking a delicate sip. He drank it without the usual bitching about instant coffee or the lack of creamer. Jounouchi should tease him for his daintiness, but the space that Kaiba opened up on the sofa mocked him with its emptiness. Instead, Jounouchi hovered nearby, relishing how the coffee burned his tongue and throat. 

They exchanged no words in the meantime.

After his second cup of joe, Jounouchi began to feel vaguely human again. He cleared his throat before speaking, “I’m headed out soon. You can let yourself out.”

Kaiba set his empty mug on the worn side-table. He shook out his suit jacket, which only seemed the slightest bit wrinkled when he donned it again. Maybe his clothing had secret anti-wrinkle technology. It wasn’t fair how he looked none the worse for having spent the night on Jounouchi’s couch.

“No need. I’ll take you there.” Kaiba rose to his feet and wandered into the kitchen. He left his mug behind and peered into the fridge. 

“But Honda—“

“It’s taken care of. I spoke to Yuugi last night and had him tell Honda he didn’t need to come today.” The fridge’s interior acoustics distorted Kaiba’s voice. “Now do you want fried rice or the oyakodon?”

Jounouchi stood shell-shocked in the middle of his living room. What the hell was happening? It was confusing enough that Kaiba spent the night (and they didn’t even fuck). And now he was being nice? 

“Jounouchi,” Kaiba barked, eyes narrowed with impatience.

The familiar bite in his tone jolted Jounouchi’s brain back into working order. “The oyakodon, but heat it up first. And you have to eat too.”

Kaiba grunted. Whether it was in agreement or protest, Jounouchi couldn’t tell. He watched as Kaiba divvied two servings into chipped porcelain bowls and popped them into the microwave. While the food sizzled inside the microwave, Kaiba devoted his entire attention to his smartphone and ignored Jounouchi’s obvious staring. After the microwave beeped, he deposited two steaming bowls on the cramped kitchen island.

“Eat,” commanded Kaiba.

They stood on opposite sides of Jounouchi’s counter and ate in complete silence. From this distance, Jounouchi watched Kaiba flip through an array of apps on his phone: first his email, then a stocks app, and back to emails. Jounouchi dug out his own phone and checked his LINE messages. Two were from Honda apologizing for ditching him to Kaiba, one from Yuugi checking in, and another from Anzu detailing a minor burial change she amended with the funeral home. He left them all on "read." He would reply later.

When he looked up from his phone, it was straight into Kaiba’s blank gaze. To his shock, their empty bowls were washed and left to dry on the dish rack.

“Are you finished?” Kaiba asked.

Jounouchi nodded mutely. 

Kaiba then herded him into a fucking Aston Martin and drove him to the crematorium. Jounouchi didn’t have to give directions. Kaiba knew exactly where to go. His bloodshot eyes, the only sign of a poor night’s sleep, stayed fixed on the road ahead. 

When Jounouchi exited the car, he muttered a quiet “thanks” more out of habit than any actual gratitude. He didn’t turn to look back when he heard the engine roar to life behind him. 

The cremation process took hours, first to burn the body and then to sift the bits of bones that hadn’t crumbled to ash. His mom and his sister should have been there to help, but they weren’t. Jounouchi Koji had no other living relatives that wanted to honor his life or death.

For a moment, Jounouchi wondered if this would also become his fate. Who would mourn or observe funerary rites for him when he passed away? 

After everything was finished, Jounouchi was ready to crawl back into bed and never climb out again. He considered calling Honda for a ride as he exited the building, dragging his entire body behind him. Kaiba was waiting, decked out in a clean suit while leaning against the hood of the same silver Aston Martin from this morning. As soon as he spotted Jounouchi, he wrenched open the driver's side door and grumbled, “Get in.”

Jounouchi obeyed out of sheer exhaustion. But one question kept repeating inside his head: Why? 

Once again, Kaiba followed him up to his apartment. He scolded Jounouchi on how he hung up his borrowed suit. He gave Jounouchi the cold shoulder when he took a business call and calmly picked apart the person on the other end of the line. Kaiba harangued him into eating his second meal of the day. But he didn’t spend a second night at Jounouchi’s.

Life went on after that. 

Kinda.

Winter settled over Domino and sank into Jounouchi’s bones. His emotions swam deep beneath the surface, but they could not break through like the fish confined under frozen lakes. He was numb. He haunted his own life, drifting from home to work and back. In moments approaching hysteria that faded faster than they came, he wondered if he accidentally left a part of himself behind in the crematorium. If the burnt remains of his heart were mixed with the ashes buried in his father’s grave.

Maybe he mourned Jounouchi Koji’s death in his own way...

And Kaiba? Kaiba continued his regular visits to Jounouchi’s apartment. But unlike before, he dropped by without any prior arrangement made over mail. He always knew when Jounouchi didn’t have a shift. That left two distinct possibilities, both of which Jounouchi should find distasteful: Kaiba was spying on him or his friends were conspiring to communicate Jounouchi’s schedule to his... 

His what? Jounouchi didn’t have the head-space to consider his not-relationship with Kaiba Seto. His head would explode if he tried.

They still fucked. On Jounouchi’s couch. In Jounouchi’s bed. Against Jounouchi’s front door on one memorable occasion. But that wasn’t all they did together anymore. 

Jounouchi came home with an extra bento from the nearby konbini or Kaiba brought takeout. The TV played in the background, tuned to a channel showing the latest dubbed K-Drama Jounouchi loosely followed at Anzu’s insistence. Kaiba made snide comments about the acting, the love quadrangle, and the writing. He was supposed to be working but obviously paid more attention to the plot than he’d admit. Jounouchi received a new throw blanket after Kaiba bitterly complained about the drafty apartment. They played low-tech duels on Jounouchi’s beaten coffee table, which sometimes ended with their cards scattered and messy make-out sessions.

Christmas came and went without fanfare. They didn’t see each other again until the second week of the new year. January followed the pattern previously established: dinner, TV, gaming, quiet conversations that grew less stilted with practice, and sex. 

Jounouchi dared to make two cups of hot chocolate during the visit that took place three days after Valentine’s Day. Kaiba accepted it without comment. When they fell into bed afterward, Kaiba’s touches, contradictory in their firmness and gentleness, rent Jounouchi raw.

Were they dating now? Jounouchi chickened out of asking every time. Whatever they were, he wasn’t ready for it to end yet. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut, he could trick Kaiba into continuing as they were. It was a stupid thought though. Jounouchi knew he wasn’t clever enough to fool Kaiba into anything.

“You keep me warm,” muttered Jounouchi absently as they lay tangled in bed.

Warmth was a rare commodity when you grew up with a father that prioritized spending money on his gambling habit over the utilities. Given Jounouchi’s meager earnings, he still strictly budgeted during the chillier months. This winter was no exception, but Kaiba’s companionship kept him from freezing over and from drowning in the numbness. His visits filled Jounouchi’s sad apartment with light and an awkward affection that threatened to burst his heart apart.

Jounouchi’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as warning drums. But it was too late to take his words back. What he meant to say was “thank you.” His feelings, impossibly bigger than his body could contain and too tangled to voice, remained lodged in his throat.

The hand petting his spine faltered for a second, then resumed as if nothing had changed. The mattress shifted under them. Kaiba didn’t leave. Instead, he settled in more and pulled the thin covers over Jounouchi’s bare shoulders. The hour grew late and Jounouchi’s eyelids heavy. Still, they didn’t move from their haven.

Jounouchi fell asleep with his head pillowed in the juncture of Kaiba’s neck. He woke up to Kaiba curled around his back and his arm braced around his waist. The blue sky beyond his bedroom window beckoned a faint smile. With one finger, he caressed the shaft of sunlight cast across his pillow. Kaiba’s even breathing was a steady metronome—a warm and grounding weight resting against his back.

Whether or not they recognized it, they had thawed with the receding winter frost. Spring lurked around the corner. With bated breath, Jounouchi awaited her arrival and for the buds of love cradled in her palms to blossom.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] In hanakotoba, irises can mean “good news.”


End file.
